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«As soon as we will finish all this maybe we could go somewhere?» - Jack said thoughtfully, his gaze lingering on the other man a little longer than it should have. His voice was soft, almost hesitant, but there was a glimmer of hope in the depths of his blue eyes. - «For dinner… or a movie, if you’d like.»
Ianto narrowed his eyes, as if trying to discern the catch in this sudden invitation. His lips twitched into a barely perceptible smile, and his gaze, full of skepticism and curiosity, slowly rose to Jack.
«Are you asking me out on a date?» - he asked, disbelief and amusement mingling in his voice.
The captain tilted his head slightly, as if weighing the answer, but there was already a gambling sparkle in his eyes.
«Interested?» - he said it quickly, trying to keep his face expressionless, but the corners of his mouth twitched.
Ianto hesitated for a moment, rubbed his chin, then laughed and, looking away, muttered softly:
«Yes, as long as it's not in an office like this.»
Jack grinned, hiding his smile in the high collar of his greatcoat, but did not answer. There was a silence in the air–warm, slightly tense, filled with unspoken thoughts.
«Well, I'll probably stay here,» - Ianto finally said, breaking the silence with a cheerful tone. - «I don't want you to get overexcited. And you can go up to the roof - you're our expert on them.»
Jack just nodded briefly and started to leave, but suddenly stopped on the threshold. He turned around. His gaze became more serious, almost questioning.
«By the way,» - he hesitated slightly, as if choosing his words. - «Did that mean yes?»
Ianto sighed again and open his mouth, starting to talk.
«Yes! Yes…» - he replied easily, spreading his hands as if giving up.
And then Jack’s face changed. The thoughtful reserve melted away, giving way to mute amazement, and then to undisguised delight. There was even a glow of pride in the depths, as if he had just won a small but important battle.
And that stupid, unrestrained smile didn't leave him until John Hart appeared.
* * *
«Well, it seems we can be congratulated on the successful completion of the case!» - Jack proclaimed loudly, sweeping his arms in a grand gesture to ensure that he was heard in every corner of the headquarters. His voice rang with false cheer, but there was still a shadow of fatigue in his eyes after long hours of hard work. - «Everyone is free, go home!»
Ianto, standing a little further away, smiled slightly in response and immediately looked away, pretending to adjust the sleeve of his jacket. His smile was more a small sign of quiet resignation than genuine joy – something elusive was frozen in his eyes, as if his mind was already far away.
Owen, Toshiko, and Gwen were immediately animated, though their movements remained sluggish, as if they were moving through a thick syrup of fatigue. Jackets were grabbed almost mechanically, bags were pulled onto their shoulders with the air of people who had seen too much in the last twenty-four hours. Their faces reflected a strange mixture of relief and emptiness – automatic smiles, dull eyes, and quiet sighs. Yes, they had saved lives, but at what cost?
Jones's mood, on the other hand, was a chaotic whirlwind. His mind was filled with fragments of thoughts: the adrenaline from the chase, the echoes of the recent explosion, and the involuntary trembling in his fingers from the tension he had experienced. But the most haunting and painful memory of all was the image of Hart kissing Jack.
The captain, of course, did not look like an enthusiastic participant in the scene – he even tried to dodge, but John still found a way to pull him closer. And now that moment haunted Ianto like an annoying splinter stuck under his skin.
His face twisted involuntarily, as if he had swallowed something sour.
«Hey, Ianto?»
Jack’s voice was more insistent than usual, as if it wasn’t the first time he’d tried to get through to him.
The younger one turned slowly, his gaze blank. Not cold, not angry – just deliberately neutral, as if all emotions had been neatly folded and locked away.
The air in the room suddenly thickened as Jack leaned in a little closer, his voice, usually so confident, now almost uncertain.
«Is your consent still valid?»
His smile was soft, but there was something fragile about it, as if he was afraid of hearing a negative response. His lips twitched slightly, and a spark of doubt flashed in his eyes, which were usually so firm.
Ianto pretended not to notice. He raised his eyebrows with deliberate nonchalance, as if discussing the weather rather than agreeing to something that could change everything between them.
«I suppose so.»
But his voice gave him away - it sounded a little quieter than usual, the words seemed to get stuck somewhere in his throat before struggling to get out.
Jack didn't look away. He slowly approached, closing the distance between them. He seemed to be studying every line of Jones’ face, every micro-movement, as if trying to decipher the hidden meaning in his response.
«So where do you want to go?»
He whispered it almost on his lips, deliberately invading his personal space, and his warm breath sent shivers down Ianto’s skin.
But the answer was a sudden movement - Jones recoiled against the wall, and his face suddenly became closed, cold.
«You kissed him today. Don't touch me.»
His voice was sharp as a blade, and there was no trace of his former playfulness.
Jack froze, and his eyes widened in surprise. Then he breathed out softly,
«Oh... You're jealous, after all!»
His tone was a mix of amazement and a strange tenderness. He even pulled back a little, as if realizing he had crossed a line.
«Oh, I... I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. It was expected of him, he always gets what he wants. Not the first or second, but the third. Please, I’m sorry.»
His voice cracked, and for a moment, he seemed very vulnerable. Not the fearless captain everyone knew, but a man who was afraid of losing something important.
Ianto froze. He hadn't expected such words - he hadn't expected Jack to be capable of such genuine remorse. It was as if he was seeing him for the first time, without his masks or his usual bravado.
And then, something inside him broke.
Without saying a word, Jones took a step forward, closing the distance between them, and pressed his lips against Jones's chapped, slightly rough-tongued lips. It wasn't a passionate kiss, but rather a quiet, almost timid one, like a question he already knew the answer to.
«Then we'll go to my favorite restaurant,» - he said, pulling back slightly to hide the blush that had risen on his cheeks. His voice was firm, but there was a faint smile at the corners of his lips, betraying his unusual shyness.
Jack froze for a moment, eyebrows shot up to his hair, and a mischievous twinkle flashed in his eyes.
«Don't you live in Torchwood and go to restaurants?» - he gasped in exaggerated amazement. His lips curled into a sarcastic smile, and his eyes sparkled with naughty sparkles. «Oh, I'm flattered, sweetie!» - he added in a sweet, deliberately languid voice, emphasizing every word.
The answer didn't take long to come - Ianto's palm landed with a resounding slap on the back of the captain's head. But instead of being offended, Jack burst into a hearty laugh that caused Owen and Tosh, who were still chatting, to turn in their direction. He laughed as if it were the funniest joke of the decade, clutching his stomach and swaying slightly.
«Come on, what are you laughing at!» - Ianto shouted after him, but he couldn't hold back his laughter. His voice shook with suppressed merriment, and he tried in vain to maintain a stern expression, which only served to increase Jack's amusement.
* * *
The warm evening air was filled with the aromas of delicious food and a light breeze that brought freshness from the waterfront. They had been sitting at a small table in a cozy corner of the restaurant for about an hour, and during that time, they had discussed every topic that didn't involve work, as if there was an unspoken rule between them.
They talked about the weather, how a sunny morning had turned into a rainy evening, and how Jack always forgot his umbrella. They were discussing pets, and Ianto was telling a story about a neighbor's cat that often chewed on other people's lawns.
When their order was served, the captain immediately grimaced, examining the dish from all angles, which elicited another round of laughter from his companion.
«What kind of grass is this? Are they trying to drug me?» - he exclaimed, poking at the suspicious-looking greens with his fork.
The conversation smoothly flowed into music - both started talking about how bands and musicians are no longer the same and the generation is now growing up on terrible compositions. They argued about books, recalled funny cases from childhood, discussed absurd urban legends — in a word, they did everything they could to avoid touching on «alien themes».
And in these moments, over dessert and funny stories, everything seemed so simple and easy - as if there were no alien threats, no difficult missions, and no professional tension behind the walls of this restaurant. There were only the two of them, two people who were finally able to put everything aside and just enjoy the evening.
Strangely enough, not a single word about work was mentioned during the evening.
The quiet restaurant's dim lighting, provided by vintage lamps, created a cozy atmosphere that was all its own. Jack leaned back in his chair, idly swirling a glass of wine between his fingers, idly watching the amber glint play across the clear ruby of the drink. But the more captivating sight was his companion, Ianto, who was animatedly gesturing as he spoke about a David Bowie concert he had attended a couple of years earlier.
Jack's lips stretched into a smile on their own when he saw the boy's eyes light up with that special sparkle, the way his voice trembled with excitement, and the way his fingers tapped a rhythm on the tablecloth. He hung on every word, every emotion, savoring the moment as if it might disappear like smoke.
«Jack? Why are you looking at me like that?» - Ianto's voice suddenly interrupted the flow of memories.
The captain didn't even notice how he had frozen in a detached state, staring at the other man. There was something unusual in his gaze - not the usual arrogance, but a strange softness mixed with determination.
«Let's date?» - he blurted out, simply and without preamble.
The fork in Ianto's hand clattered loudly against the plate as he jerked back in surprise.
«What?» - he managed to choke out, feeling his face flush with heat. His eyes darted around in confusion, searching for any hint of a joke in Jack's expression, but he found only an unexpected level of seriousness.
The captain took a deep breath and set his glass aside. His fingers slowly reached across the table, barely touching Ianto's fingertips.
«Ianto... I know that our relationship will never become "like everyone else's."» - his voice sounded unusually quiet, almost a whisper. - «They haven't been like that for a long time. But I don't want... I don't want us to just have sex and kiss, hiding in dark corners. I'm tired of pretending it's just for fun.»
The restaurant suddenly became very quiet, as if all the surrounding noise had receded, leaving only the two of them in this bubble.
«I love you, Ianto Jones.» - it sounded so simple and so terrifying at the same time.
Ianto's brain literally shorted out. His thoughts were jumbled, his pulse was pounding in his temples, and his palms were sweaty. His head felt like a single large cell, filled with nothing but the warm feeling of love, like cytoplasm. He tried to gather himself, to say something, but the words stuck in his throat, mixed with a lump of incomprehensible emotions.
At that moment, he realized that this was not the reckless captain he had known all these years. This Jack was real, vulnerable, and terrifyingly beautiful in his sincerity.
After an eternity that was actually no more than a couple of seconds, Ianto felt his fingers finally stop trembling. He took a deep breath, as if preparing to dive into a pool, and slowly, with the caution of someone crossing an invisible line, he placed his hand over Jack's. The captain's skin turned out to be surprisingly warm, slightly rough from old scars, and this simple tactility suddenly made everything that was happening painfully real.
«Jack, I...» - his voice broke, and he snorted, feeling his throat constrict absurdly. «Fuck.» - This explosive laugh escaped by itself, because otherwise he would have just exploded with overwhelmed feelings. - «I love you too.»
He dared to look up and saw Jack's face changing in the space of a few moments. The tension that had gripped the captain's features had vanished, replaced by something so vulnerable and open that it took Yanto's breath away. A deep blush stained Harkness's cheeks, and the smooth skin around his eyes suddenly crinkled into tiny lines, the ones that only appeared when he truly smiled, leaving no room for his usual mask.
And the most amazing thing was that Ianto realized that he loved those wrinkles. Every one of them. They made Jack alive, real, and his own.
The captain, without taking his hand away, squeezed his fingers slightly, as if to check whether he was seeing a mirage. His voice sounded unusually quiet, almost uncertain:
«So this means...»
The answer was not long in coming. Ianto, forgetting all decorum, jumped up, leaned across the table, grabbed Jack's cheeks, and pulled him towards him so quickly that their foreheads collided with a resounding thud. But the pain was immediately lost in a wave of adrenaline as he gasped, choking on laughter and God knows what else, and whispered, or rather shouted in a whisper, right into the captain's lips:
«Fuck, yes, Jack, yes! I'll date you!»
And before Jack could respond, before he even realized what was happening, Ianto was already kissing him - sloppily, awkwardly, too wet, and completely delightful. It was a kiss that tasted like the fish sauce from their dinner, a shiver of laughter, and something else - the «finally» they’d been holding back for so long.
Somewhere in the background, a fork clattered to the floor, and one of the waiters let out an awkward gasp, but none of it mattered anymore. Because now they had this - a new, fragile, and deafeningly loud «us» in its sincerity.
Jack slowly opened his eyes, breaking away from the other man’s lips, as if emerging from the depths of an ocean of passion. What met his gaze was a striking, almost surreal image: a disheveled, flushed-cheeked Jones, his eyes sparkling with mischief. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored three-piece suit, its austere lines contrasting with the rebelliousness of his disheveled waves. Beneath his jacket, a purple shirt shimmered, catching the soft light of the lamps and giving his entire appearance a theatrical grandeur.
«You look... like the most beautiful dream,» - Jack whispered, his voice low and slightly trembling, hanging in the air as if he were afraid to break the moment. He didn't take his eyes off the other man, mesmerized by every emotion that flashed across his face.
«You're just like a dream...» - Ianto drawled softly, almost inaudibly, quoting a popular song. His lips curved into a sly grin.
Harkness burst into a loud, infectious laugh once again, and without hesitation, he pulled the man into his arms. His strong arms wrapped around him, and his lips touched his forehead gently, almost reverently, leaving a faint trail of warmth in their wake.